Life

Chanting Birds: Flowing Fountains

By

 

Ugonna Wachuku 

 

 

Show me the land and soul of your
dreams. Show me landscapes and
beauty in your heart. Show me new
moons and new planets. Show me
streams and rivers where lofty
life-giving water abides.

 

Show me scars of the loving
Lamb of Calvary: Tell me there
is love in your heart. Tell me
you do not smile and pretend to
love when you see me. Tell me
you remember me when I am not
in your presence. Tell me you
are not a hypocrite. Tell me
your love is real and abiding.

 

Tell me you are not a back-bitter.
Tell me why you should be called
human. Tell me your are not wicked.
Let me know that you want me to
live, breath and survive this
journey through life.

 

Let me know that you respect the
colour of my skin because I have
respected yours from beckoning
beginings of time. Tell me, you
will always be there for me;
even when dark clouds gather
for storm.

 

Tell me that my life is worthy
to you. Let me know why you do
not see my humane worth and
dignity of the spirit. Let me
embrace your caring spring and
waterfall.

 

For once, let me see you smile.
There is no bill to pay. IRS
won't be on your neck howling.
Then, let me know your wish:

 

Let me be there for you. Let me
calmly take you to my beautiful
meadow land where chanting birds
give hope and peace for life -
My meadow land of the living
where chanting birds give
loving voice to fresh
flowing fountains and
creative meadow lands
for love and charming
cherishment amongst
humanity!:

 

Then, let these flowing
fountains and chanting
birds light up your day

a

l

w

a

y

s

!
_____

Flanders Fields

Flanders' Fields

 

Ugonna Wachuku 

 

(c) 1997: Ugonna Wachuku 

 

__ 

 

Contents

 

__ 

 

Dedication

 

Prologue

 

Flanders Fields 

 

Crossroad

 

The Lamp

 

In Your Eyes

 

Angel

 

New Hope

 

Let me Be

 

What Have We Done

 

Racism and Injustice

 

Sky Blue

 

Once Again


Waiting

 

Searching

 

When I'm Gone

 

Landscape of My Soul

 

Take Me Home

 

Still Waters

 

Heaven

 

The Author

 

__ 

 

Dedication

 

__ 

 

To the cherished memory

of John McCrea and all

those brave souls who

"lie in Flanders Fields"

__ 

 

 

Prologue

 

__ 

 

"Tell them this, if ye

break faith with us who

die, we shall not sleep

though poppies grow

in Flanders' Fields."

 

~John McCrea

 

These deeply moving words by John McCrea

just before he died on the French Channel

coast in 1918 with the British coastline

in view, could not be more essential and

meaningful than now and ever.

 

Conequently, it is in keeping faith with

the dead that I write this collection. Now,

what does keeping faith with the dead mean?

Keeping faith with the dead is to do our

very best to make peace. In making peace,

our basic task  is to embrace the truth of

the brotherhood of humanity - so that,

together as one, we will make the world a

healthy and beautiful home. This is the most

valuable legacy we can bequeath to humankind.

 

Future generations will undoubtedly be glad.

In unequivocal terms, let us join hands with

the strength of love. We must denounce the

devastating reality of hatred, racial injustice,

poverty, deprivation, under-development and

war, again and again - and again!

 

My narrative poem: `Flanders' Fields' explores the

fatal problem of war, life and death with a visit

to the graveyard. This ballad is symbolic of life,

hope, beauty, love and the passing reality of the

often sad human condition. Flanders' Fields takes

us on a journey of realization and awareness -

the wisdom in allowing our earthly life to grow,

to love in humility and bloom like the poppy which

will flower forever.

 

Subsequently, from `Crossroad' to `Heaven', join me

for a humane, creative voyage into love, care and

beautiful rejuveneration in nature. Experience those

fears, tears, dreams, riddles and hope we have in

common. Surely, beloved friends, my deep-felt hope

is that you will personally find meaning, joy and

soul healing inspiration from this collection.

 

My simple prayer is that our ever loving God will

grant us deep faith to hold hands together and affirm

our believe in a peaceful world founded on the brotherhood

of humankind and clothed in the brilliant blue garments

of love:

 

May our longing and search for a peaceful world lead us

to the saving meadow-land and green pastures of that

heavenly storm stopper: May this age old yearning of

every human soul find uplifting expression in that living

love and unfathomable peace that will flower and bloom like

the poppies of Flanders' Fields!

 

Ugonna Wachuku

Wednesday 10 August, 1997

Geneva, Switzerland

 

__ 

 

i:

 

Flanders' Fields

 

My maternal grandfather

fought in the jungles

and trenches of Burma,

now, Myanmar.

 

That day, tears clouded

my young eyes as

he told me stories of

life in the trenches.

In great sorrow, I

listened as he told

how friends and loved

ones fell side by side

through the fatal heat

of war.

 

I could smell the

breath of human blood

mixed with mud in

those deadly trenches

of Burma where uncaring

men fought with one

another from dawn to

dusk.

 

With the warmness of

that cold harmattan

night, we sat by the

traditional mud hut

kitchen fire.

 

The sweet smell of

the roasting corn

filled the air with

the smell of the

roasting local pear

and yam.

 

A keg of sweet palm wine

stood by, as well as a

bowl of palm oil mixed

with pepper.

 

I could feel tears

in his eyes as he

told me that most

of them did not

even know why they

were killing one

another!

 

They had no clear

idea of what it

was they were really

fighting for.

Outside, the wind howled

and whistled through

the dark noises of the

night, silently

heralding the cold,

dry dusty desert wind

from the nothern

Sahara.

 

Amos Odu:

for that is my maternal

grandfather's name

told my young heart

the horrors of war.

He taught me the

beauty of peace

flowered with the

fragrant breath of

loving hearts all

across our weeping

world.

 

He told me not

to loose sight of

the real dream of

hope founded on

peaceful handshakes,

smiles and kisses.

 

Then, on that warm,

cold harmattan night,

beside the kitchen

fire, my two younger

brothers: Uchenna and

Ikenna, joined us for

the story.

 

Together, as one,

with the lost love

in human hearts, we

symbolized a new

beginning.

 

I, whose name, Ugonna

means Eagle of God, the

precious large bird of

prey, with keen eyesight,

vision, strength, majestic

essence, princely profile

and dignified endowment,

called myself: Birth.

Uchenna, whose name

means: God's thought

or Father's thought

called himself: Life.

Ikenna, whose name

means; God's strength

or Father's strength,

called himself: Death.

 

Together, since blood

is thicker than water

or even crude oil for

that matter, we formed

a circle of love and

peace. It was a new

heartfelt beginning: 

 

We formed a circle of

human experience and

began to ask why

mankind must kill one

another. We began to

ask why blood must

form river beds in

trenches, jungles

and cities before

humankind realizes

the shameful

nothingness

of war. 

 

We came to affirm

our belief in love;

our caring belief

in the brotherhood

of humankind.

Our circle is a

continuing one,

lovingly reaching

out to touch every

human soul - for

peace; for tolerance;

for the respect of that

bountiful, divine worth

within each human person.

Later, my grandmother,

my father's mother,

taught us the wastage

in war:  

 

Her story was not

of ther trenches of

Burma;

But of the trenches

of Biafra, flooded

with the blood of

our tribesmen on war

path with the bigger

land of my birth.

 

With tears in our

little eyes, we

asked questions.

She told us about

our uncle called

Victor;

a brilliant soul

who was studying

engineering at the

university.

 

The day he left

home for the war

front was the last

they saw of him.

 

The wind whistled

past while trees

swayed to the rhythm.

She told us that

stories were brought

home, of how Victor

her fourth son died

at the Abagana sector

of the war front in

the heat of war.

 

My tribesmen were

called the Biafran

rebels. In turn,

they called the foe,

Nigerian vandals.

 

We could feel the

pain in her eyes.

We could feel

the bleeding heart

of such a loving

and caring mother,

when she said:

 

"We mourned him

so much because

none of the family

saw his body to

this day!"

 

My grandmother turned

to me and told us how

I was born a year after

the Biafran war ended:

She believed I was

Victor's soul renewed

since I was the first

child to be born in

the family after that

bloody and devastating

civil war.

 

My father, whose name,

Maduadighibeyanma, means:

Man hates his fellow human

beign, is her second child.

Then, my grandmother,

whom my two brothers

and I call Ne-nne,

blessed me:

"Vikitor (Victor) died

in the biafran war; but

you are soul renewed -

his soul, born into the

the family as a heavenly

consolation."

 

My grandma, a brave

woman of hopeful

strength and grandeur

prayed further: 

 

"May you seek

peace and build

peace. May you

build peace from

home to the ends

of the earth."

 

In the hidden tears

of her love, she

chanted:

 

"May you, your brothers

and your generation never

see war. War is evil. No

one ever wins. No life is

left unhurt or shattered.

No family is left unscared!"

 

The wind rose and

whistled past.

Trees bowed as if

in agreement to my

grandmother's prayer

and chant.

 

Yet, wars are planned

and made by mankind

in the hateful darkness

of his mind and heart.

But no war is

ever won.

 

The deep, bloody

scars are left to

the living;

to cherish;

to care and

to heal.

 

The cost is too

heavy a burden.

Human resources

plus divine,

earthly bounties

are destroyed.

 

While poppies

glow and bloom.

humanity stunts

in gloom.

 

Should we not learn

from these Flanders'

Fields poppies ever

in bloom and with the

glad birds, in the nude

beauty of nature, sing:

Poppy forever?

 

Then, in pain and tears

of destroyed hopes and

loving dreams did I leave

that green land of my birth;

that vast heart of the noble

Niger and benign Benue - those

two radiant rivers on inspiring

ancestral landscapes.

 

I walk this Alpine land

in search of that peace

which passes all understanding.

Would I not find it in the

reassuring bloom of the

precious poppy

flowering flower?

 

Zurich kissed my yearning

feet in glad welcome; and

passed me on to the warm

winter whiff of glorious

Geneva's fresh february

coldness coddling.

 

In April, Geneva

saw me alive.

 

The spring's sprouting

spirit went with me

on a visit to the

graveyard in remembrance

of those brave souls who

lie in Flanders' Fields

and elsewhere:

 

---   

[present tense

narration]

--- 

 

On a walk through

lofty Loex's woods,

side by side with

the river Rhone,

 

I come to you,

graveyard, to wonder

at these souls lying

here.

 

You walked with us.

You came with us.

You breathed of this

earth.

 

Now, in silence,

you lie still in

this graveyard,

sleeping on green

earth.

 

I wonder at you,

grey tombstone wtih

a cross and rounded

head.

 

I wonder at the

green earth that

now stands on these

bodies that were

once mine.

 

I watch in solemn

thought.

I stand still in

remembrance of you

all who lie here

and in Flanders'

Fields.

 

I too will come

your way.

That way, none

can tell:

 

We cannot tell the story.

We cannot tell the beauty.

We cannot tell the suprise.

We cannot tell the sense.

 

I sit in you, graveyard;

near the war, I sit.

Bees circle my head

and take off to your

flowers, graveyard.

 

In spirit, I watch you

who lie here now.

You walked this earth

like little me.

 

I remember Flanders'

Fields! 

 

I remember Burma

where my grandpa

fought in the trenches.

 

I remember Biafra

where I lost a

promising uncle Victor 

at the war front. 

 

I remember all those

places across the

world where men

lie in graveyards -

slain by deadly hands

of war.

 

In spirit, I watch

you who lie here

now.

 

I watch you in

the silence of

my sober heart.

In you, graveyard,

 

I sit still;

in all mortal

calmness.

Should we not learn

from these poppies

ever in bloom, and

with glad birds in

the innocent beauty

of nature, sing:

Poppy forever;

for you;

for me?

 

Gentle winds walk

my bald eagle head.

Sweet air from the

river Rhone walk

in front of me -

a man in quest for

life;

 

in search of love;

in search of that

hopeful birth;

in search of that

joyful death;

in search of all

natural bounties

and life.

 

I pay homage to you

who lie in this

graveyard.

 

I pay homage to you

who lie in Flanders'

Fields.

 

I deeply remember you

who lie in:

 

Dunkirk,

Katanga,

Biafra,

Angola,

Liberia,

Mozambique,

Zimbabwe,

Rwanda,

Somalia,

Nicaragua,

El Salvador,

Guatemala,

Afghanistan,

Cambodia,

Cyprus,

Iraq,

Iran,

Kuwait,

Korean Peninsula,

Vietnam,

United States of America, 

Mexico, 

Israel,

Palestine,

Middle East,

India,

Pakistan,

Kashmir,

Tajikistan,

Cambodia, 

Sudan

Libya

Georgia,

Abkhazia,

Sierra Leone,

Falkland Islands,

The former Yugoslavia 

Liberia: 

and all other places

with bloody trails

of war and human

conflict, globally!  

 

I pay homage with

peace. 

 

I pay tribute with

that spirit of love

which will always

conquer hatred and

war in the fleeting

minds of humankind.

 

On a walk through

the lofty woods of

Loex, side by side

with the river Rhone,

I come to you,

graveyard.  

 

I have come to be

with you who sleep

here. I have come

to feel with you. 

 

Your flowers are

blooming. I watch

the evening sun

glitter on these

flowers and on me.

 

Yet, in this green

earth, you lie so

still and quite.

 

Only the birds

sing and fly past.

 

Humanity walks you by.

You do not know the

smiling sun on us

anymore.

 

These fragrant flowers,

you cannot smell.

 

I sit still in you,

graveyard. In

contemplation, I

remember you who lie

in Flanders' Fields -

the handsome hope and

home of our poppy

inspiration.

 

Let us care.

Let us love.

Let us keep

faith with the

dead -

our dead!

 

Should we not learn

from these poppies

ever in bloom, and

with the beautiful

birds of God's nature,

sing:

Poppy forever;

for you;

for me;

for our children

and their progenies?

 

Now, I walk this

Alpine land in

search of that

peace which passes

all human

understanding.

 

--- 

 

[present tense

narration ends]

 

--- 

 

Would I not find this

peace in the reassuring

bloom of the precious

poppy flowering flower?

 

Remember, my maternal

grandfather fought in

the jungles and trenches

of Burma, now Myanmar:

 

With the warmness of

that cold harmattan

night, we sat by the

traditional mud hut

kitchen fire.

 

The sweet smell of

the roasting corn filled

the air with the

mouth-watering smell

of the roasting local

pear.

 

The yam which I had

chosen from grandpa's

barn also roasted with

fragrant flavour mixed

with that of the roasting

bush meat.

 

I could not wait to

eat the corn with

the pear; nor could

I wait to dip the

yam or bush meat

into the bowl of

fresh palm oil

mixed with pepper.

 

In great sorrow,

my brothers and I

listened as he told

how friends and loved

ones fell side by side

through the fatal heat

of war.

 

I could smell the

breath of human blood

mixed with mud in

those deadly trenches

of Burma where

uncaring men fought

with one another from

dawn to dusk.

 

Should we not learn

from these poppies

ever in bloom; and

with the inspiring

birds of God's nature,

sing:

Poppy

forever;

for you;

for me;

for our

children

and their

progenies?

 

__ 

 

ii:

 

Crossroad


 

On the crossroad,

down the labyrinthine

path through life,

the journey to you

unfolds.

 

I behold the pastural

path I have to follow.

In the unmarked

cabin,

I meet your soul.

 

I go back to the past.

I go back to the

beginning of a journey

conceived with these

inspiring lush pastures

from the land.

 

That cherishment of

the beginning cuddled

in smiles of motherly

waterfalls embraces

my being.

 

A new clouds walk in.

Fresh dews draw the

marvellous morning to

a towering start.  

 

In the soul that is

mine, I breath of

your caring cation;

life from your

purifying heaven.

 

It is catharsis.

My journey begins

anew.

 

A yeaning in me

unfolds.

 

The moment flees

from me.

 

The present yawns

for a meaning lost

on the narrow road

to this fleeing

moment.

 

Soothing breath is

found.

 

In your heart,

windy waterfall

is met.

 

Life is given.

 

Refreshing hope

is born.

 

A new dawn

screams.

 

I search for your

heartbeat.

 

I search for the

love you hid in

pastural plains.

 

I long to see the

glitter and the

greeness while

dawn lingers.

 

Nothing is lost

on these plains.

 

You walk barefooted

through sands of hope;

just on time, to

fulfill a destiny

in my soul.

 

You walk me through

the dark.

 

You lovingly take

me through those

deadly tunnels in

life.

 

The love you hold

outweighs all!

Love on the

crossroad.

 

Crossroad to

channels of

new discovery.

 

Live is given.

Love is embraced.

 

Your journey in

me unfolds.

 

This good journey

is your name.

 

Crossroad of

discovery and

beginning.

 

Your love makes

me loving on this

journey through

life.

 

Crossroad of

awakening.

Crossroad of

rejuveneration.

 

I behold your

life-giving

road:

 

The caring,

pastural

path

I have

to

f

o

l

l

o

w

!

 

__  

 

iii:

 

The Lamp

 

 

Through dark

roads

and

channels,

a lonely heart

on hopeful

life trail

wander afar

into your

watchful being

 

on

green

garden

glory

In dark woods and

pathways, moonbeams

hide behind grey, blue

clouds on star empty

night.

 

Yonder, on the radiant

river road to noble

nature, blue birds sing

on bloomed garden flowers

to herald the coming of

your lamp.

 

Raindrops journey through

windy woods and nature to

...

::::::: 

::::::: 

 

From my long-hand manuscript collection: 

Flanders Fields 

(c) Ugonna Wachuku 

August 1997 

Geneva: Switzerland  

 

View ugonna's Full Portfolio

The Road to Essertines

The Road to Essertines 

 

The Road to Essertines

 

Ugonna Wachuku 

 

(c) April 1997

 

 

Contents:   

 

 

Dedication   

 

Prologue   

 

 

The Harvest I   

 

 

The Harvest II   

 

 

Cathie   

 

 

Dreams   

 

 

Now   

 

 

Barefooted   

 

 

Forever   

 

 

This   

 

 

Lonely Eagle   

 

 

Brooks to You   

 

 

Aglow   

 

 

Distant Streams   

 

 

When Dawn Comes   

 

 

River Bird   

 

 

The Moon Never Departs   

 

 

When the Birds Sing   

 

 

The road   

 

 

Flower   

 

 

Silence   

 

 

She will Be   

 

 

This Earth in You   

 

 

For the Beginning   

 

 

I Remember Who You Are   

 

 

Winter in your Heart   

 

 

Masterpiece II   

 

 

Back Again   

 

 

Beckon Eagles   

 

 

Moon Angel   

 

 

Masterpiece   

 

 

Farewell   

 

 

The Author   



Dedication:   



To her who became an

enigmatic muse on

The road to Essertines-

Catherine Ramu!      

 

 

Prologue:    

 

On the road to Essertines, there is no short cut.

The experience is a long, whole, breathless, 

charming encounter with nature.

 

Yearning to be at one with enchanting country-sides of poetic

Confederation Helvetia, I set out for Essertines a small village

in the Dardagny Commune of Switzerland's Canton of Geneva.

 

Above of all, I went in search of her. And discovered that I

have been charmed to entrancement by the nature of her

village.   


On this stupendous road to Esertines, she became an enigma

and subsequently bloomed into a Muse. The reality of this

Muse dawned on me when I discovered that within the depths

of my creative being, new forms of poetic expression were

taking shape and breathing.   

 

In days, weeks and months that followed - between April,

1996 and February, 1997, poems in this collection were

written by me in response to the awesome creative inspiration

this enigmatic Essertines Muse brought my humble way.  

 

For how long she will remain this Muse, I cannot tell. But

indeed, I have dedicated this collection to her as a soulful,

monumental tribute to all women and men of inspiration and

goodwill; who will, against all odds, continue to love, to

care, to cherish and to conquer evil and fatal forces that

wish to stiffle our humaneness as humankind bound in dignified 

earthhood, peace and loving oneness.  

 

Today, it is a beautiful March afternoon. The sun is brilliant

and warm. From the large window of my home library and study,

I can see Geneva's magnificent country-side greening into

splendid spring near the river Rhone. So, I will be so

grateful if you join me as I step-out for an inspired walk

on the road to Essertines!  

 

Ugonna Wachuku

Loex village,

Bernex Commune,

Geneva, Switzerland 

Thursday 13 March 1997    

 

 

A:

The Harvest I   

 

On the temple's threshold,

I await your home-coming. 

 

I do not wait alone.

The eagle waits too. 

 

Then, at the distance,

the farmer begins to

gather the harvest for

you and for nature.

The sower begins to

soe the seed from the

land in your heart.   

 

The land is fertile.

Your land is green.

The rain begins to

drizzle.   

 

The land kisses her.

The rain kisses the

land and the eagle

smiles across those

green fields luring.   

 

The sower sows more

seeds.  

 

The rain increases in

intensity while beneath

the sheltering tree you

sit in calm contemplation.   

 

Then you drink from

the rain as the farmer

gathers the harvest in

the healing, fertile

rain of your land.   

 

In your eyes, the new

harvest is seen.

New seeds begin to

sprout.

 

B:

 

The Harvest II   

 

The Path:  

 

I came to see you

yesterday.

I was at the farm.  

 

Catherine:

[Shrugs]  

 

I wasn't there.

Anyway, if you came, that was

fine of you. And whatwas your

mission?  

 

The Path:    

 

I came for the harvest.

These days, one never

knows when the clouds

will gather.    

 

Catherine:

[Somewhat suprised]  

 

The harvest! Who told you

there's a harvest?  

 

The Path:    

 

I am the path! 

 

Catherine:

Aha! The Path! The Path

to what? To where? 

 

The Path:   

 

Yesterday, remember you were

the road. The road flows to

your river inthe heart of

Essertines. But then, I am

the Path to this harvest!   

 

Catherine:

[Startled]  

 

You're kidding me!

Who told you to believe

that?  

 

The Path:   

 

I don't need any old time

prophet to tell me that.

It's real. And don't you

forget: I am still the Path!  

 

Catherine:

[Shrugs again. Stares] 

 

Hmmnnmm! Talk about being

real. What do you know about

the harvest anyway?  

 

The Path:   

 

I was with you at the

beginning. I saw you

sitting under the tree

in the rain. The farmer

was there. The sower.

And the eagle too. I was

with you at your childhood

streams and waterfalls of

yeaterday and today - at the

spring - if you understand.   

 

Catherine: 

 

I could. But then, I honestly

want to  know what you would say

about this harvest. I saw your

noble rainbow when the clouds

gatther. You think I didn't? 

 

The Path:    

 

Ah! There you are!!

But I have already told

you about the farm. What

else do you want to hear?

          

Catherine:  

 

Your heartbeat! 

 

The Path:

 

The Path never beats.

It trails. For the heartbeat,

I suggest you meet your friend-

eagle.   

 

Catherine:

 

Okay! Then, what do

you trail? 

 

The Path:    

 

You

 

Catherine:  

[Shaken. Exclaims]  

 

Meeee! The Path 

trails little me!  

 

The Path:  

 

Well ... 

 

Catherine: 

 

That's all you'll

say? - "well ..."

Why me?

Tell me.

You seem to be an

interesting character.  

 

The Path:   

 

I have played so many

parts in my life-span

and time. You could be right.  

 

Catherine:  

 

Then, what about the

harvest?

What about trailing me?  

 

The Path:  

 

I will tell you tomorrow

when we meet at the river.  

 

Catherine:  

 

The river! Where would

that be: The river?

 

The Path: 

 

Listen, Catherine, the

eagles call now. I've

got to go. We'll see at

the river.  

 

Catherine: 

 

Hey you! Wait a second! 

 

 

But The Path was gone.

Leaves in the wind

followed The Path

while at the distance,

village drummers and

dancers waited for the

harvest ceremony at a

river of life and love

yet unknown to her.   

.......

.......

 

From my book collection: The Road to Essertines


 ~ Critiques/Comments ~


Amy Riberdy
winnowillwhite@hotmail.com
i AM JUST SO LOST IN A MAGICAL WORLD IN THIS WONDERFULLY SYMBOLIC &
IMAGINATORY STORY.  WHO TOLD YOU I WAS THE HARVEST? (THE QUESTION...)
(THE ANSWER COMES WITH SUCH CONFIDENCE & POSSIBLY A LITTLE BIT OF
SMUGNESS: " I AM THE PATH..")  THEN COMES THE CHALLENGE... AH, THE
PATH. THE PATH TO WHAT? WHERE. CATHERINE TAKES NOTHING AT FACE VALUE,
EVEN ONE WHO CLAIMS TO KNOW IT ALL...  I AM SO IMPRESSED.... WELL
DONE. AMY
http://www.postpoems.com/members/gentle 


Mona Omar
monao3@yahoo.com
wow ugonna the road to essertines is lovely but the path was gone
leaves in the wind followed the path  river of life and love yet
unknown to her ?! wow its beautiful
http://www.postpoems.com/members/mona


Charisma *T.A.* Makatita-Poortman
shyrena@wanadoo.nl
I am truly impressed by your talent. Thank you for sharing your
wonderful thoughts.  Charisma ~*TMP*~
http://www.postpoems.com/members/charisma

 

View ugonna's Full Portfolio

Tears of Yesterday

Tears of Yesterday 

 

 

Ugonna Wachuku

 

__ 

 

(c) 1996: Ugonna Wachuku 

 

__

 

Contents:


__ 

 

Dedication  

 

Introduction

 

Part One:

 

Yesterday's Tears 

 

River Road 

 

Flower Landscapes 

 

Raindrops 

 

Urs Haberli 

 

Green Earth 

 

Misty Clouds 

 

Streams 

 

Rainbow 

 

I Found Love 

 

The Farmer 

 

Part Two: 

 

Chinwe 

 

First Meeting 

 

Distant Shores 

 

What does it Take? 

 

The Journey 

 

To the Ridges 

 

Ngozi  

 

Obinwanne  

 

New Day 

 

Love me Again 

 

You 

 

The Stream 

 

Part Three:

 

Streams of Love 

 

Calming the Storm 

 

Ako na Uche 

 

A heart 

 

Dreams 

 

Lonely Soul 

 

Like a River 

 

Living in the Shadows 

 

When Love Calls 

 

In your Eyes 

 

Nobody Loves Me  

 

Farxiya

 

Epilogue

 

The Author 

 

__

 

Dedication

 

To all humankind who have ever

dared to love and care for those

of us living in the shadows in

this beautiful but hurting world!

 

Together, lets make this God-given

splendid earth a better home for

all humanity, our fellow earthly

animals, plants and environment

and our progenies!
__ 

 

Introduction:
__

 

"And now abideth faith,

hope, love; these three;

but the greatest of these

is love."

 

~1 Corinthians 13:13

 

These thirty-five poems represent a deeper part of me

which has found meaning to live and to love. They are

poems that derive great strength and inspiration from

the beauty of nature and from the humaneness of the

loving people I have come across at this period of

my life.

 

With these poems, I yearn to define humanity. I yearn,

indeed, to present some uplifting meaning to the caring

nature of the love I have always desired amongst humankind;

including my heart-felt longing to see mankind's complete

willingness to cherish and protect our earthly environment

for our survival and that of coming generations because in

loving one another, we must be courageously prepared to

protect, sustain and care for our natural environment

globally. This is an urgent task all women and men of

love and goodwill must engage in.

 

These are poems for the brotherhood and oneness of humanity.

They are poems for the realization of our oneness as dignified

human beings created in the image of God Almighty!

Herein, I have paid monumental tributes to all humankind

who have ever dared to love; even to the point of not being

loved in return - to the reality of being spited and asked

to turn the other cheek.

 

This is a special call to all of you out there who have never

dared to love to take up the pleasure and burden of love.

Arise!: Be a soulful part of this great movement seeking to

heal and make much more peaceful and loving our troubled and

tearfully hurting earth. This is a loving call of the eagle.

 

Ugonna Wachuku

March, 1996

Geneva: Switzerland

 

_

 

Part One:
__

 

On these far lands,

I see love.

I see despair.

Today's road is a

tearfully joyful

path to a future

unknown.

 

__

 

1:

 

Yesterday's Tears

 

__ 

 

Today, dawn breaks in

on me gradually.

I behold the glittering

sun and fading moon.

Rays follow my beaten

track. I gasp for breath

on this pathway.

A new day walks on

towards the discovered

city on sunlit abodes.

My life spreads out

like birds' wings on

the clouds.

 

Meaning yawns.

Hope beckons.

Like a river,

you begin watery care

of the earth's hunger

and thirst, just before

the eagle glides in from

our early morning mist.

A new city emerges from

the rubbles of this mind

destroyed:

 

Yesterdays's tears find

meaning in today's laughter.

The windy weather breathes life

into a soul so weak and dying.

In the breath of your heart,

streams water my beings

dry river banks.

 

A brilliance lost comes back.

The eagle in me is ready to

soar, to love and to cherish.

Today, the smile you bring

sows fertile gladness for a

heart forgotten yesterday.

 

Down the village path to life,

riddles and hope; on this road

to your soul, we behold a hero's

sun, stars and moving moon.

The rainbows assuring path

meets us on this new road.

 

My heart trails this native

nature in you. This new day

is full of dreams and hope.

This is a new day created

from soothing tears unbound.

This new day, my yearning

heart will still follow your

rainbow; your life-giving

stream-roads and sky-ways.

 

The caring and overwhelmingly

loving answer to

yesterday's tears!

__ 

 

2: 

 

__ 

 

River Road

 

When birds sing new

songs of hope on the

sad green earth;

when love means something

healing and uplifting

in your handsome heart;

when stars shine

at noon to herald

the name you have;

when dawn overcomes

dusk in the darkness

of fleeting life,

look for the heart

that dares;

look for this heart

that yearns to be part

of the pain from earth's

lowly people.

 

Go in search of the

love you can find.

Search for the meaning

to our dreams of oneness

and peace because you are

this new beginning for the

earth's green hope.

 

Let our hearts be together

on this voyage to the other

side of the sea's sentiment

for life.

 

Lead us to this life of

hope and love for the

earth's yearning poor.

Lead us to the fulfilling

and bountiful river of

found love and care -

this river road to life

unchained...

 

__ 

 

3:

 

Flower Landscapes
__ 

 

Flower landscapes fill

the beauty and refreshing

nature in your being.

Native stories are told

on the beach and you

glitter like the moon

on blue shores.

 

I follow these blue

shores scattered all

over the earth's bossom.

And in my being, a living

light brightens.

 

What other pathways and

dreams can fill my days

and hopes as we try to

find life's breath on

these welcoming,

breath-taking highlands

with flower landscapes?

 

The beauty you left on

the last bridge opens

a new world olf inspiration

and survival for the poor

soul in me. I find your

mothering gateway to the

end of our sorrow.

 

Part of this sorrow

ends with you; yet,

your blue clouds never

depart from us.

 

Teach me anew then.

Let me be part of this

sprouting hope and smile-

this love never giver given.

 

Aha! While we wait for the

beginning, let these flower

landscapes come to you.

Let them begin a treasured

song for the hopeless.

 

Let theses flower landscapes

come to you and to me.

Let the light come.

 

__

 

4:

 

Raindrops
__ 

 

Raindrops.

Waterways.

Windy tears trail my

path on this way to

the land.

 

A shrill cry jolts

my memory back to the

reality of a hurting

world.

 

I see far away palm

fronds on earth's

fading beauty through

your holding heart.

 

Warmness never experienced

covers this vision of

a yearning in me.

This yearning lingers

on you as it winds

its weary way through

the lost land.

 

I walk this land slowly.

I wait to see new moons

emerge from shambles of

lost hope:

 

I met you in the hall.

Eyes walked to the table.

Our hands waited for dawn.

All through the day,

I waited for your

merciful meaning.

I waited for hope

in life; for your

name's caring nature. 

 

I waited for your love

and hope-filled smiles

on lawns so green:

Raindrops.

 

Waterways.

Windy tears trail my

path - this path to life

and love born anew on far

away lands and longings.

I wait with hope. 

 

I wait with the

brilliant birds' beauty.

I honestly yearn for

your raindrops on waterways

of home and today.

 

Will you, indeed, trail

these tears - these

numerous despair in life?

 

Will your raindrops and

waterways float us into

green pastures and meadow

sea shores?

 

Raindrops!

Waterways! 

::::::: 

::::::: 

__

 

From my long-hand manuscript collection: 

Tears of Yesterday 

(c) Ugonna Wachuku 

Geneva: Switzerland: 1996 

__  

 

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Be My Date

Ugonna Wachuku

 

Smile your smile.
Be your real self.
Dream your dream.

  

Do your kind thing.
If you wish, get angry.
Let-off steam. But don't
heap it on me. You can
let the pigs at Decapolis
have it. I wouldn't mind.
But wait, people could
mind.

 

Anyway, life goes on.
Just don't let it go on

as usual. Do something
different. Build new dreams.
Plant roses and its thorns.
Be good to somebody. There
are so many hurting souls
out there.

 

View sprawling landscapes.
Watch eagles and me soar.
Smell the luring earth.
Till the soil. Plant new
crops. Watch them grow.
Eat no junk food. Care
for your life and body.
Don't mind the cat story.
You aint got nine lives.

 

Do something different,
my dear. Listen to the
whistling pine. Hear
the waterfall draw patterns
and streams throught the
forest. Admire the dolpins. 

 

Cherish and uphold heaven's
love for humanity. Reach
beyond the stars. Let God's
breath lead you on. Just be
willing and available.

Climb unbending mountains and
hills. View the valley. Have
hope. Build love. Just love
those little children. Show
them the good, loving way.
Stop hatred and racism.

 

Build mansions of peace and
brotherhood over terrorism.
Do something different,
beautiful one. Just do
something different, humanity.

 

Listen to my heartbeat in
its loving rhythm. Be my love.
If you will. Just be my date,
beautiful one. Kingdom one.
Smiling faces and beating
hearts are waiting:

 

Just be
my date
And

M

a

y

b

e

.

.

.

 

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Silence

Ugonna Wachuku 

 

There's grave silence

accross the earth seen. 

Hidden hearts preach in 

cities for growth, for

social justice, for

dying humankind's

well-being globally, 

for fertile farmlands

and humane harvest. 

Inequality blooms!

Silence! You don't 

count! 

 

Church bells are silently

ringing at the distance.

Temple bells are also 

ringing. And Mosque 

calls mingle with these 

ringing bells alive. 


I can hear the women
and men singing. I hear 

humankind singing: 
I can hear you from
Essertines. I can hear

you from Nigeria!

I can hear you from

Mexico! I can hear

you from these United

States of America!

I am 

human! 

I am

red

b

l

o

o

d

!

 

I can hear you from
the woods. I can hear 

you from this earth!

I am uncounted

human! 

 

I can hear your voice
from the other village.
Yet, you are so far
away. But I am still

human unloved! 

 

But with the clustered
brilliance of your waving
hair, you will come in
silence. 

 

At the warmth of the
evening sun, you will
smile in silence. I too
will watch in silence.  

 

Night shall come with
golden lamps to give
you hope and unforgotten
love with cherishment;
to give you the silence
of yearning hearts walking
the lush landscape of my
beckoning soul: 

 

That loving mutness in
sweet sad silence seen 

across our breathing 

blue earth!

 

There's grave silence

accross the earth seen. 

Hidden hearts preach in 

cities for growth, for

resilience, for soothing

social justice, for fresh 

farming and harvest, 

for dying humankind's

well-being, globally!

Inequality is King!

Skin colour brightly 

bars in hidden

hearts! 

 

Silence! 

Silence!  

Silence!

 

Yet, I can hear your

handsome hate from

the

w

o

u

n

d

e

d

w

o

o

d

s

 

Last Minefield!

Ugonna Wachuku

 

 

Another new dawn.
Hope unbound.
Early morning dews
and wet leaves
embrace me on my
glad way to the farm
on ancestral lands of
home and upliftment. 

 

This new day, life
is born anew in my
being. Whistling
pines and singing
birds herald my
journey to the
farm.

 

Through the calm,
village bush path, I
make my way carrying
my hoe, mattock and
machete for a hopeful
day at the farm.

 

I view welcoming palm
trees and luring palm
fruits and cocoanuts
on this refreshing new
morning. I take the next
step:

 

Gboooommmnnnn!!!!

 

I am thrown into the
bush - way out of the
hopeful village path
Streams of blood and
pain cloud my vision.
My legs have been blown
off by a landmine on our
village bush path to the
farm:

 

Pain and sorrow will be
my watchword through life.
Scars unhidden will serve
as tearful reminders of
my bloody day with that
heartless landmine. Yet,
so many are dead. And
like me cannot tell
their story. But this
new day and forever,
I'll be their voice:
The world wide web
cryer unwavering!

 

Yet humanity moves
ahead with this
deadly weapon on
the village bush
path. Sorrow and
pain respects no
one in the fatal
bossom of these
landmines strewn
across the earth.

 

Let us, now, rise
with peaceful oneness
and make this mine on
my village bush path
the last landmine.
Let us rise, this new
morning, and bid goodbye
to minefields across our
beautiful blue earth.

 

Please, come with me,
join all women and
men of goodwill. This
new morning, let us rise
and rid our green pastures
and meadow sea shores of
landmine evil. Stand with
me - this new dawn of hope,
love and caring oneness
amongst humankind.

 

This new dawn, let this
be the last minefield
on our green pastures
and meadow sea shores.

 

This new dawn, humanity,
please, listen to my
heart-broken voice
crying through the
world wide web -
chanting: Let this
be the last
minefield
on
beaming
blue
planet
earth!

 

See my
teardrops
of sorrow
and pain
for the
survival
of
h
u
m
a
n
k
i
n
d
!
!
!
.
.
.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

In soulful support of landmine victims everywhere and the International Campaign to Ban Landmines (ICBL): http://www.icbl.org

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Land of the Eagle

Ugonna Wachuku 

 

There is a dream far from 

the land of my soul.

 

There are tearful streams

of thought caressing the

yearning warmth of my being.

 

Windfull trees sway to the

rhythm of nature's heart-beat

in the eye of the me that

I am.

 

This new dawn, I walk your path

with handsome hope and tear-drops

on my right hand.

 

This new day, I yearn to see

new landscapes and new beginnings.

But the day is misty, the landscape

unkwown.

 

Yet I am heaven's hopeful child.

And I must dream beautiful, new

dreams on this land of the eagle.

 

This new day, let me be created

anew with love on this land of

the eagle beyond my dreams.

 

Let me be who I must be for the

good of all humanity. Just let

me be made whole on this land

of the eagle.

 

This new day, there

is a dream far from

the land of my

yearning soul.

Help me Lord!

 

This new day, let me be

created anew with living

hope and strength on this

lush land of the eagle!

 

Land of the Eagle
~ Critiques/Comments ~

Valerie Jochum
vjochum@hotmail.com
Each day does indeed hold new beginnings.  When we try to view tomrrow
from yesterdays point of view, those new beginnings do look misty.
Even if we try to see the newness in the early dawn, there is mist.
We are unable to see the plans which God lays before us each day, for
his plans are much different than what we could ever imagine.  I think
we are only to know that His plans for us is for a new day, a promise,
and our chance to remember He is the commander in chief of our soul.
With that, we are created anew and refreshed.  We may keep our dreams,
for those are what he gives us to pursue.  Dreams are like ships
floating captainless along the sea of our mind.  Dreams, waiting for
us to permit Him to come aboard to sail them into their port where
their reality will manifest. Ugonna, this poem was splendid!
http://www.postpoems.com/members/vjochum


Charisma *T.A.* Makatita-P
charisma@freehomepage.com
Misty days within new hope, new beginnings within dreams. You captured
these things and feelings very good in "Land of the Eagle" Thanks for
sharing.  Charisma
http://www.postpoems.com/members/charisma


Farah D
farah@overseas.co.uk
wow! this is inspirational stuff! I was feeling pretty low when I got
here and I must stay it has really lifted my spirit! Excellent
writing!
http://www.postpoems.com/members/destiny


Misty Lackey
countrygal_cc@yahoo.com
loved your poem it gave a sense of freedom along the wings of a
eagle.. good job!
http://www.postpoems.com/members/mistylls  


Patricia Jones
patriciajj@hotmail.com
This is musical and sublime; it reads like a long, euphoric sigh. Well done.
http://poetrypen.com/wingsoflight
2002-11-15 11:01:11


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Take Me Home

Ugonna Wachuku

 

My heart is so silent.

Today is another new

day. 

 

Shadows of the early

morning sun draw patterns

on my weary window. I must

rise to face this new dawn

with hope and courage.

 

I must be the me I am for

the journey through this

beckoning day.

 

Swaying trees and whistling

wind glide across my view;

splashing nature's radiant

beauty across my face.

 

In your eyes; in your glad,

inspiring breath, I see

treasurable paths to follow.

 

In your open arms of love,

I see heaven's caring call.

I breath of strengthening

freshness from natur's

healing heart.

 

And in the hollow of your

enfolding hands, I whisper,

take me home for a peaceful

rest. It's so troubling here.

Take me home for a peaceful

rest. I have come this far.  

 

I have gone the distance.

Please, take me home for a

peaceful rest.

 

Take Me Home: 
~ Critiques/Comments ~

Misty Lackey
countrygal_cc@yahoo.com 


home is the best place to rest, your words in this poem is a come on
lets get forward to movement toward home because I am tired and need
to rest now:-)
http://www.postpoems.com/members/mistylls  


Serene Moment
belleloved@excite.com


I love the serene feel of your calling home.  I see two meanings
here of home.  The home of rest or our physical dwelling place and the
home we have that's prepared for us in heaven.  Heaven is the best
home there is... the best place of rest from our earthly toils.  I
love the meaning of this piece.  Regards. ^_^
http://www.postpoems.com/members/serene  


Bernard Shaw
bernard.shaw@chello.at


As usual a wonderful piece of poetry. Written with the delicate touch
of a master. I feel the awakening of a new day with the promise of
natures most bountious of gifts also a touch of sadness in the wanting
to go home to the promised land of our Father. I too sometimes feel
this great need but I have learned in my seventy two years of age to
be patient. My time is coming and we will meet up in the promised
land. Two souls united in our love for poetry and the beautiful things
of this life. May the blessings be with you always from bern
http://PostPoems.com/members/bern
2002-05-20 15:14:26

 

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